Pass The Ducats.

June 13, 2008

But mind the coppers.

“Stick to your lanes – and no jostling”, hissed Coach Falconetti,

handing stocking caps and a crowbar to the 4th Grade Relay Team.

“Now, let’s bring home some silverware!”



Edgar gave Olive Cortina’s hand another squeeze.

“Lend me that for a minute”, whispered Virgil,

and nudged it into a popcorn carton

in the next row down.


Somewhat Threatening Postscript: You won’t forget about the launch of Jesse’s book tonight will you, dears?

Update: I blew in and out of the launch faster than the South-Easter, but not before I got to grab a glass, say hello, and drop a press-hot copy of the book into Jesse’s hand for her John Hancock. I was expecting the usual inscription – you know: firstborn; half the royalties; how I inspired an entire generation of writers and illustrators, but… no. All I got was a lousy signature. That aside, the book is every bit as marvellous as anticipated – and then some. You should run, RUN, to get your copy here, and limited edition prints here.

One Step Closer to the Grave: Thanks to everyone who managed to crack the veil of secrecy and dispatch such kind wishes – and in some cases, gob-smackingly generous sacri… gifts – for my birthday. (And special thanks to Kyk for mentioning me in the same panel as the Grim Reaper and the FSM. I can die happy now.) Most fabulous of you, dears – I’m touched. Also, quite grateful.

Next Week: Less chatter. More splatter.

The Carte Is Blanche.

February 1, 2008

Oh… ah, hah hah… Is it Friday? Already?

So. I’ve tried staring at my monitor until droplets of blood form on my forehead. Drunk three cups of coffee in under an hour. And bought something I can’t afford on The Internet. And still… nothing resembling a post. Nada. Niks. The well is dry. The ship has fled the port, the eggs have set, the, er… psychiatrist is in.

Before I head off for a restorative Margarita, some recreational flagellation, and a drill press, here’s a little something to keep your spirits up in the meantime. Wait, this one. No, no, one of these. (Thanks, Kyknoord. Thanks a lot.)

Finally, make a special note to attend the upcoming launch of (local girl – hooray!) Jesse Breytenbach’s graphic novel: “I don’t like chocolate.”
But I do. Send Lindt and your firstborn to the usual address.

Jesse’s a fantastic illustrator – preview some panels here, here and here.

I’m counting the days.

Trick or Threats?

October 26, 2007

If Kerry King were a vegetable, he'd be a pumpkin.
“I don’t see why I should have to don these

ridiculous outfits every Halloween”, snapped Father

as Mother zipped him into his Innocuous Passer-by®

costume. “What in blazes is wrong with my Leisure Cape

and scimitar?”


Aside: should I, Mrs. Benitez, ever be inclined to do my own laundry… ahahahahaha, no, seriously… I’d definitely want a couple of these. (Via MoCo Loco)

Happy Halloween, dears!

The twins played hide-and-seek in

parked cars while Mum was at the

supermarket. “That’s lovely, dears”,

she said as they handed her a baby and

a tyre iron, “but we’re running out of space

in the cutlery drawer”.


The Organ Grinder.

February 9, 2007

My heart pumps custard for your jelly face. No really, it does.

I sold my lyin’, cheatin’ heart

to a nice young couple.

They sent it back and asked for one

without a bullet hole.